We'll Carry On
by IAmKayDubs
Summary: After enough lifetimes of a crazy fate, Marco has figured everything out. He has been around for thousands of years, being reborn, along side Jean Kirstein. Well... mostly along side. Jean doesn't always show. Finally, he does, and Marco makes it his mission to create a bond between him and Jean. After all, this is fate... right? Reincarnation AU with a twist! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1- Marco

It's really a terrible feeling... You know, watching your soul mate pass you by day after day, year after year.

Or even worse... Not seeing them at all. Not knowing where they are, or maybe not even knowing what they look like.

Usually I know. Usually it's pretty simple. He almost always retains some feature or some habit that he did in his first life, which makes it easy to pick him out.

But, as it turns out, the last few lives have been oddly empty.

Out of the thousands of lifetimes we've gone through, we have gone through so many together. It makes the whole twisted process a lot easier.

If only he knew we had spent so much time together...

I know the secret. I know what is going on. After so many times of being reborn, I have started to figure it out. The two of us are constantly being reincarnated.

Now, I don't know if others experience the same thing, I never dare to ask anyone, for fear of being deemed crazy.

I do know for a fact, however, that WE are going through it.

I noticed about five lifetimes ago, when I began having memories of past lives. Of course, I didn't know that's what they were at first, but eventually I pieced everything together. I realized that it was no coincidence that I met a person that was so similar to ones in my memory. I decided that I may be a bit crazy, but it was the only logic that made sense to me.

His name is Jean. It always is, whenever he shows up. It's always Jean in the same way mine is always Marco. I'm always curious to know if that is one of the "rules" of reincarnation.

When it comes to how often he shows up, however... It's pretty random.

He doesn't always appear. Some lifetimes I'm alone, meaning I never find him or anyone to spend my time with.

And even when he does show up, there are often "glitches" in the system. Sometimes he will be forty years older than me, or even more. Sometimes he will be a young child when I'm near the end of my life.

When it does work, through, it's amazing. I will find him, usually without much trouble, and approach him. I'll make up some reason to talk to him, and we become friends, sometimes more. But there is an issue, as always. Every time we become lovers, something bad happens to one of us. There hasn't been a single lifetime that we have become a couple that lasted until old age. I wonder if that is a curse, something brought on by the fate I suffered in my first life.

Despite all of the issues, something about this lifetime feels different. Maybe it's the fact that Jean has been gone from so many lifetimes, or maybe it's because for the first time ever, I look exactly like what I look like in my memories of my first life.

I guess it's going to come down to the hands of this odd fate.

I'm fifteen now... I suppose I just have to wait.

* * *

I've done it. I've finally done it. It's taken me a total of seventeen years, but I've _finally_ done it.

I've found him. I found Jean. He is sitting in the same cafe as me, at a table near the back window, drinking a coffee, his eyes downcast. An image flashes in my mind, one of what I always recognize as our first life. I see a mess hall, with Jean at one of the long tables arms crossed over its wooden top.

I blink a few times, clearing the image out of my mind. I smile to myself as I notice that Jean looks like he did in his first life, just as I do. That had to mean something, right?

I stand up slowly from my spot in the chair by the fire, sighing lightly, feeling content. I have been waiting three lifetimes, maybe more, I've lost count, for Jean to show up, and now he has.

I approach his table and fold my hands behind my back. I smile as warmly as I can, and speak up. "Hey, I'm Marco."

Jean looks up, his amber eyes squinting curiously. "Okay...?"

I try not to let my smile falter at his lack of friendliness. "Mind if I sit?"

Jean folded his arms and sat back from the table a bit. "Yeah I mind. I don't want some bratty kid's company."

My smile 'is' lost then. The frown fills up my face, and I hate the way it sits. I've always preferred to smile. Jean is so much more irate than previous lives. He almost always has a slightly bitter attitude, usually being fond of snippy comebacks and a tone of sarcasm, but he's never been this outwardly rude to me.

"I'm sorry... It's just, I saw you here, and I-" it's becoming harder to speak.

Jean stands up, grabbing his coffee in one swift move. "Look, I'd rather not be hit on by some idiot. I gotta go."

"I wasn't-"

Jean just shakes his head and walks briskly out of the cafe.

What just happened? Why is his personality so drastically different from previous times? Why is he acting in such a brash way...? It is unheard of for Jean to act in that manor, at least towards me. In some lives he picks fights with certain people or holds deep grudges, but he never lashes out at me...

I sit down in the seat across from where Jean had been, resting my cheek on my palm, elbow resting on the table.

Something is wrong here... This isn't how this lifetime is supposed to go. Jean and I are supposed to become friends. He has never acted so rude at the start of our encounter, not once.

This can't be the way everything is supposed to go. It just can't...

* * *

I found him again. It's taken me a few months of waiting, but he has shown up again. This time, he's behind the counter at a small bookstore in town. Hardly anyone ever comes here, but I find it peaceful, and I guess Jean does too.

I pick out the book I've come for in the first place, tucking it under my arm. There is only one other woman in the store, an old lady with a warm gaze that is putting away books on a shelf. She must own the place.

I smile at her as I walk past, stopping in front of the counter and setting the book down lightly.

Jean looks up, he seemed to have been in his own world for a while. Now, however, he is fully awake, and he looks less than pleased to see me.

"Oh, it's you." Jean mutters. "Are you stalking me now?"

I've come prepared for his harshness. "No, I'm not." I reply calmly. "I'm just here to buy this." I point at the book on the counter.

Jean gives an unimpressed huff, but he rings up my book anyways.

Jean hands me the bag with a snarky snort as he noticed my silence. "What's up, freckled brat? Cat got your tongue? No cheesy flirting today?"

I shake my head slowly, taking the bag. "It's never been about flirting, Jean. It's only ever been about befriending you."

Jean folds his arms. "How do you know my name?" He challenges me.

Though it's a lie, I point to his name tag. "It's right there."

Jean snorts again, but it's weaker than the first. "Who says I need you as a friend?" Jean retorts with a grumble.

_'Apparently somebody, why else would this be happening to us?'_ I want to say. Or maybe even _'you did, many times.'_

But I don't say that. Instead, I give a small shrug. "I don't know, I guess. I'm sorry if I've bothered you." I give a small smile and turn away from Jean, and away from the tiny bookstore.

But, my smile masks a mountain of pain.

* * *

Now it's raining... It's pouring, more like. The rain drops pound on the top of my umbrella, and everyone around me walks with a briskness they don't usually have.

I take a shortcut, passing through an alley, and coming out onto a small dirt footpath that is sheltered by trees. I slow my pace, no longer worrying about getting soaked to the bone.

I continue to walk on the little path, the slightly muddy ground causing my shoes to pick up bits of caked earth. After a few minutes of walking in boring silence, I see a wrought iron fence hidden behind some tangled ivy leaves. I stop in front of the massive gates, peering inside.

It's a cemetery.

Tombstones fill up row after row, with flowers of many colors decorating the sullen grey. The place looks empty, I don't see anyone standing by any of the graves...

But, as it turns out, there is someone sitting in front of one of them.

Jean.

I tilt my head. Why would he be here? I suppose that's a stupid question, I know what he's doing here, he must be mourning. But for who?

Our families are never the same when we are put into a new life. Sometimes I have a sister or a brother, and sometimes I have six siblings. Sometimes I have none. For parents, it's the same. Although, something makes me think that our parents in this life must be the same as those in our first life, considering that we look exactly the same. I have no memory of my first parents, so I can't be sure.

I open the gate slowly, trying to be gentle and quiet. My feet squish on the mossy ground as I step inside, but I don't mind.

I walk past each grave with my head bowed, out of respect. As I approach Jean, I prepare myself for a bitter response to my presence.

I stop near him, to his side, still bowing my head.

But that doesn't seem to be enough.

So I crouch down, resting my knees underneath me, and I fold my hands in my lap.

Jean looks at me now, and I expect a harsh snap, but he says nothing.

I look up myself, only to see why he is silent. He has tears streaming down his face. Tears mix with the rain, making an altogether sad sight to witness.

"What are you even doing here?" Jean mutters so quietly I can barely hear.

"I was taking a shortcut home, and I saw the cemetery. Then I saw you sitting here alone and I wanted to help."

"Help with what?" Jean murmurs. "There's nothing to help with."

"Okay... Maybe not help... But I can support you, can't I?"

Jean narrows his eyes, the golden hue in them bright even now in the dreary grey weather.

"Why?"

I tilt my head. "I don't understand...?"

"Why would you want to 'support me'? We're basically strangers."

"So? I like to be kind to everyone..."

I want to scream out the entire truth. The fact that I need to be here for him, I need to befriend him. Otherwise, I may be trapped for lifetimes with out anyone to become close friends with. Besides that... I want to befriend him. I love having him around...

Jean sighs, clearly unsure of what else to say to me.

"Who is it...?" I ask gently. "Who's buried here, I mean."

Jean let's his shoulders fall momentarily and takes in a light breath. "My mother."

"I see..." I respond lightly. I don't say 'I'm sorry' because I know for a fact it usually doesn't make the person feel better.

Jean still seems wary of my presence. He keeps his shoulders rigid, not daring to relax.

"You don't need to feel so self conscious around me."

Jean looks at me again, eyes not losing their sharp gleam. He seems to struggle to find the right words. "... How'd you know I was thinking that?"

*'because I've known you long enough to know everything about you...'*

"Your body language said so."

Jean makes a small 'tch', turning his face back towards the grave.

"Why do you show up everywhere, freckles?" Jean mumbles. "Are you sure you're not stalking me?" His words hold less bitterness than previous encounters.

"I'm not stalking you." I respond. "I don't know why I always seem to find you."

That's a lie, but telling him it may be fate would scare him away.

"Hmm." A simple noise, but I suppose it's progress from our first encounter at the coffee shop.

"I'm really sorry if I bother you when I come talk to you... I don't mean to, I just..." I can't find an easy way of explaining it.

"Don't worry..." Jean murmurs. "I don't find it annoying or anything, I just wasn't used to the random kindness at first."

I smile. I'm getting so much closer to befriending this well protected and introverted version of Jean, and that makes me so happy.

We wait in the chilly silence for a while longer, Jean sitting relaxed and peaceful.

I look over to Jean once again, but my smile fades. He is no longer peaceful, he has gone rigid, and is staring at the gravestone, eyes wide, the tears no longer there. He's trembling, every inch of his body quivering with... Fear, it seems.

"Jean?" I reach over and place an hand on his shoulder, hoping that he'd snap out of this trance and look me in the eye, but he doesn't. The shaking continues, and I swear I hear him whimper a bit.

Just as I reach out to shake his shoulders, he collapses.

"Jean!" I catch him with one arm before he hits the wet ground, and I pull him onto my lap. I let his head rest on one of my knees, as I set my hand on his forehead to check his temperature. He seems fine there, but he is completely unconscious.

I decide to wait a few minutes before calling a hospital, because I want to make sure it is a true problem. He seems to me as if he is just sleeping, his breathing is normal and his temperate seems steady as well.

"Please be okay..." I whisper.

I wait. Jean stays in the same state, breathing normal and relaxed. He kicks a bit, once or twice, but the overall trembling has subsided.

Two minutes pass, and nothing changes.

At first, that is.

All of a sudden Jeans eyes fly open. The fear induced trembling starts up again, but it's very minimal.

"Jean, are you okay...?" I ask softly.

"I... I think." He says, voice sounding overall uncertain. He struggles to sit up, so I scoop up his shoulders and get him into a more comfortable position. "What happened, exactly?"

"I'm not sure why, but you just passed out..." I try to keep my tone even as I explain. "You started trembling and then you collapsed. I decided to wait a few minutes before calling 911, and luckily you woke up. You were only out for about two minutes."

"I see..."

"You're okay now, right? You don't feel sick or anything?"

"No... I'm okay..." Jean states, still seeming worried about something.

"That's good." I smile a wide smile that I hope is reassuring.

Maybe it's not... Jean is staring at his, eyes wide. He isn't looking at my eyes or at my entire face, just at my smile.

"Marco...?!" He gasps quietly, in disbelief over something.

"Hmm? What's wrong?" My smile has faded, being replaced by worry

"You... You were..." Jeans breath starts to speed up.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, Jean." I command softly. I don't want him getting worked up and passing out again. "Come on, let's go sit over there."

I help Jean stand up, trying to support his wobbly legs. I lead him over to a bench that you can see the whole graveyard from.

"So, what's wrong? You were starting to say something?"

"When I passed out... I had some sort of dream." His voice is slow at the start

Something clicks in my brain. A dream? Could he... Could he actually be getting one of his old memories back? No, I shouldn't assume that yet. Maybe he has crazy dreams often, I'm not very familiar with this version of Jean. "Yes? And what happened...?"

"I... I was watching a scene... I was watching myself interact with the scene. There was another me sitting in front of a big fire." He flinches noticeably at the mention of the fire. "I watched as the other me cried... He was talking about death..." He wracks his brain for a moment. "...There were some people off to the side, and they along with myself were wearing these weird outfits. We seemed like soldiers...? Maybe? I'm not so sure..."

He was watching himself? He was in front of a big fire... Talking about death... There were soldiers...?

"The oddest part... And also the scariest... Was near the end. There was a man standing in the fire... His features were too hard to make out... But I think it was you. He had your smile..."

"Me?" I repeat myself to make sure I had heard him right. "... I was in the fire?"

"Yes... It sounds crazy, but I think you were."

"And you were watching me while I was in the fire?"

"Yeah, both the real me and the other me were staring..."

I shut my mouth tightly, glaring down at my lap, clenching my fist and staring at it. Is Jean actually getting memories from his first life? It sure sounds that way. Over time I have pieced together my entire story, at least the story that involved Jean. We were best friends, and one day I was killed. He cried at the fire when all of the fallen's bones were being burned. I had been watching him from wherever I had ended up after death. Heaven, maybe, but I couldn't be sure. He saw a vision of me in the flames, which prompted him to join the "Survey Corps", a certain branch of the military that fought the "titans".

I'm giving myself a headache just thinking about Jean's dream and the technicalities of our first life that I still haven't discovered. If I'm worrying myself this much, it's going to be really hard to explain to Jean if it comes down to it.

"Marco?" Jean asks, awkwardly placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out with that dream."

"No, you didn't... Don't worry." I smile briefly. "We need to be worried about you. You seemed really freaked out..."

"I just don't understand why I passed out like that. I was panicked because I saw flashes of the fire and of corpses right before hand... But I didn't think I would pass out." Jean rubbed a hand through his hair.

"I feel like the graveyard triggered it. While thinking about your mother, you re-... Experienced that."

"That makes sense, I suppose..." Jean muses.

There's a long silence. Neither one of us seem to be able to find words.

"You know, I hate to admit it, but I'm glad you showed up here today." Jean says after a while, his voice lacking its usual vigor. "You helped me out a lot. Thank you."

I smile, nodding slowly. "No problem."

After a while longer of sitting in silence, Jean stands up. I do the same, standing up and brushing off my pants.

"I need to get going... My dad will get worried if I'm here much longer." He states, zipping up the dark brown jacket he is wearing.

I nod. "Okay." I pause for a moment, and find a scrap of paper lodged in my pocket. I get that, and a pen, and scribble my name and number on it. "I'm sorry if I'm annoying to you... But if you ever need anything, you can call me." I hand Jean the paper.

He takes it up, staring at it for a moment before giving a very small smile and nodding, folding it up and putting it in his jacket pocket. "Thanks, Marco."

"Anytime." I smile softly. "I'll see you later, Jean." I turn away and exit the graveyard, heading for my house.

* * *

AN: Hey there, everyone! I _finally_ got around to finishing up the chapter 1 for this new multi chapter JeanMarco fic. I love JeanMarco so so much, and I've been toying around with this idea for awhile. I know that the Reincarnation AU isn't a new idea, but I tried to put a twist on it (the twist being that Marco is aware of it. I don't think I've seen that done before, if it has been, I haven't read it...)

Also, the way this fic is going to work is a bit different from my usual fics. Since I decided to put this in first person (something I USUALLY don't do for fanfiction, but the parts I tried to write in third person sounded clunky...) I am going to be posting two parts of this fic at a time. I'll post Marco's POV first, and then Jean's. So chapter's 1 and 2 of the book will both be chapter 1, just in a different POV (same with 3 and 4 being chapter 2 and so on.)

Whelp, that's it, I think! I really hope you enjoy this! If you do, please leave a favorite, follow, or review! It makes my day to see those pop up in my mailbox! :D

Thanks everyone!


	2. Chapter 1- Jean

There's a kid staring at me.

I'm not quite sure why, so I don't stare back, I make it seem as if I'm not even watching, my eyes glaring down at the coffee cup in my hand.

I suppose he isn't really a kid, he's more of a young teenager, he looks like he is younger than me, I can't be sure.

The most prominent thing about him is his freckles. They adorn most of his cheeks, and a cluster of them are built up on his nose.

Despite his uniqueness, he's really starting to freak me out. I don't like the way he's smiling as he looks at me, he looks a bit giddy, and it's creepy.

Oh no... He's coming over here.

His seat on the chair is abandoned, as he approaches my little two person table. The smile never leaves his face, and I'm pretty sure he finds it inviting. Of course, I don't find it inviting, I find it goofy.

He folds his arms behind his back and takes in a breath. "Hey, I'm Marco."

I look up at him and narrow my eyes cautiously. "Okay...?"

I notice that his wide smile falters for just a moment, but I'm used to that reaction. "Do you mind if I sit?" He points to the empty chair across from me.

I curl my lip a bit, by habit. "Yes I mind. I don't want some bratty kid's company."

This time, his smile drops completely, and he seems to dislike the way frowning feels. He seems truly shocked at my attitude, I guess his plan to flirt with me failed.

"I'm sorry... It's just, I saw you here, and I-" he stammers out a response.

I've heard enough of this. He's really starting to annoy me. I snap up my coffee cup and push in the chair, glaring at the freckled faced stranger. "Look, I'd rather not be hit on by some idiot. I gotta go."

"I wasn't-"

I just shake my head briskly and leave the coffee shop as quickly as I can. I don't need to waste my time on him, he's just some weird kid with no concept of privacy.

I may have been _too_ harsh on him, but I've never been good at toning down my defensive manor.

He just needs to deal with it.

* * *

The freckle faced kid has shown up again. Marco, according to what he told me, but I just prefer the less familiar "freckle faced."

Showing up again after only a few months strikes me as a bit odd, and I consider the idea of him stalking me, but I know that the idea isn't very logical. After all, this is a pretty small town.

I'm resting my head on my open palm when I hear the light 'thud' of a book being set down in front of me. I look up, only to see the freckle faced boy standing in front of me smiling lightly.

"Oh, it's you." I mutter, pretending as if I hadn't seen him already. "What, are you stalking me now?" Maybe words like that will scare him enough to make him avoid me...

He seems unfazed by my harshness. "No, I'm not." He shakes his head. "I'm just here to buy this."

I huff, but I ring up his purchase, handing the bag to him when I finish. He doesn't move after the bag is handed to him, so I instinctively let out a sneer. "What's up, freckled brat? Cat got your tongue? No cheesy flirting today?"

The freckle faced boy sighs. "It's never been about flirting, Jean. It's only ever been about befriending you."

I fold my arms. "How do you know my name?" I stare him down. Maybe he actually _is_ stalking me.

He points calmly at the name tag pinned to my red tee shirt."It's right there."

I snort, trying to cover up my rash assumption. "Who says I need you as a friend?"

Something sparks in the kid's eyes. It seems sad, pained, and almost... Nostalgic. The look stays for a moment before being replaced by his normal expression. He sighs, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, I guess. I'm sorry if I've bothered you." He gives a tiny smile, and even I can tell it's forced.

And with that, he turns around, leaving the tiny store and heading down the sidewalk.

Maybe I am being overly harsh. Well, I know I am, but it's all just who I am. I'm brash, and my words show it. I've always guarded myself, not allowing people too close. I don't know why, it's not as if people are abandoning me constantly... I just have this mindset that warns me not to get too close to others. Don't get too attached, because people don't stick around. I've only ever had one person close to me die, yet it seems as if I've lost many more, judging by the way I act.

It's that mindset that makes it really hard to not be annoyed by this kid. Sure, he's supposedly only trying to befriend me, but I can't comprehend why. His sunny personality doesn't match with my rainy one at all, and that whole 'opposites attract' thing is garbage to me.

Whatever. Despite this being a small town, I probably won't see him too often. I think our lives are too different for constant meetings.

And... I suppose... I can put up with him if I do meet him again.

* * *

Pouring rain is pounding above me. A lot of it is dripping down from the large leaves above, sending thick drops of water to smack the top of my head. Although at this point, it doesn't matter much, because the moist ground beneath me has soaked my butt and the sides of my legs.

I'm not crying, even though I should be. I'm sitting in front of my mothers grave, where she has been for the last seven years, but I'm not crying. I want to, of course, but I can't bring myself to it. I've always hated crying when I was alone. Crying is never fun, but being alone makes it all the more painful. Even so, I hate being a burden to people, so I try to avoid crying at all.

But oh, how it hurts. I want to cry, and I want to scream, but I won't. I'll just sit by the grave as I do once every six months and stay silent.

At least, I should be silent.

But I break. I begin to cry. It's not much, but unmistakable tears are streaming from my eyes and drying on my cheeks.

To make matters worse, I feel someone sit beside me. I hardly have to look to know who it is.

Marco. Aka "freckled stranger."

I don't bother thinking of a snippy response "What are you even doing here?" I mumble, trying to avoid looking directly at

"I was taking a shortcut home, and I saw the cemetery. Then I saw you sitting here alone and I wanted to help."

"Help with what?" I mutter. "There's nothing to help with."

"Okay... Maybe not help... But I can support you, can't I?" His voice is gentle, but I suppose it always is.

"Why?"

He tilts his head, looking a bit confused. "I don't understand...?"

"Why would you want to 'support me'? We're basically strangers." I wish my voice could be stronger, but whenever I come to my mothers grave, I get pretty weak.

"So? I like to be kind to everyone..." The weird thing is, I want to believe him.

"Who is it...?" He asks gently. "Who's buried here, I mean."

I sigh, letting my shoulders fall a bit. "My mother."

"I see..." He murmurs softly.

There's a pause, and we both stay silent. I stare at the tombstone in front of me, my body rigid.

"You don't need to feel so self conscious around me." The gentle voice rises up from beside me.

My eyes squint curiously, and I turn my head to face him. He read my mind, as I worried about his presence. "... How'd you know I was thinking that?"

He looks conflicted for a moment, but shrugs and turns back to the grave. "Your body language said so."

I 'tch' lightly, turning back to the gravestone myself.

"Why do you show up everywhere, freckles?" I mumble. "Are you sure you're not stalking me?" I try to tone down the natural bitterness to my words

"I'm not stalking you." He responds with ease. "I don't know why I always seem to find you."

"Hmm." My voice is soft, I have no energy to make any kind of retort.

"I'm really sorry if I bother you when I come talk to you... I don't mean to, I just..." Marco seems to have trouble finding words.

"Don't worry..." I murmur softly. "I don't find it annoying or anything, i just wasn't used to the random kindness at first." It was true, and though it didn't excuse or explain my rudeness at the start, nothing really would.

I notice Marco smiling widely, but I don't dare ask why, I just sit back and try to relax.

Suddenly, there's a flash of bright light in front of my eyes. A blur of orange, yellow, and white that passes in the blink of an eye. However, Marco doesn't seem to notice.

I sit up straighter, trying to clear my mind. Something weird has just happened, and I needed to know what.

Another bright flash. It's even quicker this time, if that's possible. Then... I see bones. I see corpses. I see one specific corpse, I only see it for a moment, but I sticks into my mind.

My whole body tenses up, and I begin shaking. More bones pile up in front of me, and I watch as they are engulfed by the bright light. It must be fire.

I hear Marco say my name, but I'm too stunned to respond. I hear a pathetic whimper escape my lips as I'm forced to watch a private show that contains horrific images.

I feel myself collide with something. It's not the ground... It feels like someone's arm. Must be Marco. I want to call out to him, beg for help, but I can't speak.

I slip into black.

* * *

Now, I'm somewhere else entirely. I have no idea where I am, and I can't shout out for anyone, my mouth is forced shut.

The fire that I discovered is in front of me, raging with an angry passion.

However... I notice that I'm not alone. Not only are there various people to one side of the fire, but _I_ am on my knees a few feet in front of ... Me.

I'm standing in the background, but another me is sitting a few feet away from me.

"What's... What's this...?!" I hiss.

I hear my own voice echoing from the spot where the other me sits. I can barely make it out, but I'm muttering bitterly, grumbling about death and bones...

The fire grows brighter, and I see the image of a man standing in it. Both the other me and the real me stare in shock, the man is standing in the fire... I can't make out his face, but his body is muscular and he's quite tall. All I see is a smile... A warm smile...

It's so familiar...

I hear the other me crying, sobbing more like. Pitiful noises are escaping at the sight of the man in the fire.

The other me stands. He holds one fist on his back and raises his other hand, balling it into another fist.

He hesitates... But after a moment, he slams it to his chest, right over his heart.

The pound of the fist against a hard chest echoes.

I snap awake.

I'm panting, struggling for air, and I still feel like I'm trembling a bit.

"Jean?!" Marco calls my name, and I notice that his voice is right above me. I move my head to be sure, and I confirm that my head is resting on his lap.

"Jean, are you okay...?" Marco seems worried.

"I... I think." I mutter, trying to pull myself up. Marco scoops up my shoulders with ease and manages to get me into a comfortable sitting position. "What happened, exactly?"

"I'm not sure why, but you just passed out..." Marcos tone is soft. "You started trembling and then you collapsed. I decided to wait a few minutes before calling 911, and luckily you woke up. You were only out for about two minutes."

"I see..."

"You're okay now, right? You don't feel sick or anything?"

"No... I'm okay..." I can't find a way to explain the 'dream' I just experienced. I need to sort it out myself first.

"That's good." Marco flashes a bright and reassuring smile.

That smile...

That's the smile I saw.

That's why it seemed familiar to me...

Marco was the man standing in the fire and smiling at me.

"Marco...?!" I gasp silently.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"You... You were..." My breathing is picking up.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, Jean." Marco says gently. "Come on, let's go sit over there."

Marco helps me stand up, as my legs still shake the tiniest bit, and he leads me over to a bench that oversees the graveyard, it's hidden by some trees. He sits me down and takes a place directly beside me. Usually I would shove someone that was this close away from me, but at the moment, I don't mind the contact.

"So, what's wrong? You were starting to say something?"

"When I passed out... I had some sort of dream." I start slowly.

That seems to pique his interest. "Yes? And what happened...?"

"I... I was watching a scene... I was watching myself interact with the scene. There was another me sitting in front of a big fire." I flinch at my own mention of the raging flames. "I watched as the other me cried... He was talking about death..." I tried to remember the details. "...There were some people off to the side, and they along with myself were wearing these weird outfits. We seemed like soldiers...? Maybe? I'm not so sure..."

Marco is staring intently at me, soaking in every word.

"The oddest part... And also the scariest... Was near the end. There was a man standing in the fire... His features were too hard to make out... But I think it was you. He had your smile..."

"Me?" Marco repeats. "... I was in the fire?"

"Yes... It sounds crazy, but I think you were."

"And you were watching me while I was in the fire?"

"Yeah, both the real me and the other me were staring..."

Marco shuts his mouth, his lips pursed. His eyes are a bit wide, and he is staring at his lap that holds his clenched fist.

"Marco?" I ask slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out with that dream."

"No, you didn't... Don't worry." A smile flickers across his face briefly. "We need to be worried about you. You seemed really freaked out..."

"I just don't understand why I passed out like that. I was panicked because I saw flashes of the fire and of corpses right before hand... But I didn't think I would pass out." I run my fingers through my hair.

"I feel like the graveyard triggered it. While thinking about your mother, you re-... Experienced that."

The way he said that seems odd... He sounds a bit nervous about it, but his reasoning makes more sense than anything I've come up with.

"That makes sense, I suppose..." I say softly.

After that, we stay in a chilled silence for quite a while. I don't speak a word, and neither does Marco.

"You know, I hate to admit it, but I'm glad you showed up here today." I couldn't stand the silence any longer. "You helped me out a lot. Thank you."

Marco smiles that bright smile of his. "No problem."

More silence settles in, but eventually I notice that the sun that is peaking out from the rain clouds is setting. I stand up, as Marco does the same, wiping dirt off his pants.

"I need to get going... My dad will get worried if I'm here much longer." I say, as I zip up my brown hoodie.

Marco nods. "Okay." He pauses momentarily, and rummages around in his pockets for a second. Her gets paper and a pen and writes something on it quickly. "I'm sorry if I'm annoying to you... But if you ever need anything, you can call me." The paper is placed in my hand.

I take it slowly, staring at it. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad he gave it to me. I smile softly. "Thanks, Marco."

"Anytime." Marco gives a tiny smile. "I'll see you later, Jean." He turns away heading out of the graveyard.

* * *

(This author's note is just a copy paste from the one on Marco's POV, so if you've read that one, it's the same thing!)

AN: Hey there, everyone! I _finally_ got around to finishing up the chapter 1 for this new multi chapter JeanMarco fic. I love JeanMarco so so much, and I've been toying around with this idea for awhile. I know that the Reincarnation AU isn't a new idea, but I tried to put a twist on it (the twist being that Marco is aware of it. I don't think I've seen that done before, if it has been, I haven't read it...)

Also, the way this fic is going to work is a bit different from my usual fics. Since I decided to put this in first person (something I USUALLY don't do for fanfiction, but the parts I tried to write in third person sounded clunky...) I am going to be posting two parts of this fic at a time. I'll post Marco's POV first, and then Jean's. So chapter's 1 and 2 of the book will both be chapter 1, just in a different POV (same with 3 and 4 being chapter 2 and so on.)

Whelp, that's it, I think! I really hope you enjoy this! If you do, please leave a favorite, follow, or review! It makes my day to see those pop up in my mailbox! :D

Thanks everyone!


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